Return to Mandalay (46 page)

‘Rosemary?’ said Alec.

‘I’m still here.’ She had gone with him to Copenhagen. She had lived the life he wanted to live, she had taken the escape route he offered her. ‘What do you want, Alec?’ she asked him. ‘Do you want to move to Seattle?’ It sounded large and alien. But Copenhagen had seemed that way at first.

‘It’s the way forward,’ he said. ‘As far as the job’s concerned. And they won’t wait forever.’

But was it the way forward for them? ‘The job isn’t everything,’ she murmured. There was family too. A family she was only just beginning to rediscover. Alec could stay where he was. Why did everything have to change?

‘Things always change,’ Alec said softly.

Rosemary realised she must have spoken aloud.

‘The job isn’t everything, no, but things always change. If you’re strong, you can accept change, go with it, benefit from it.’

If you’re strong, you can follow your heart, she thought.

‘If we’re strong,’ he said.

Rosemary realised what he was saying. This was the time when he was going to push her, when he was no longer going
to be kind, compliant, understanding. ‘So you have to do it?’ she asked. ‘You’ll go to Seattle?’

‘It’s such an opportunity,’ he said. ‘What reason do I have to say “no”?’

It was Eva’s last night in Mandalay. During the day, she had gone to view the archaeological finds in the Cultural Museum and had visited the famous Angkor Chinthe, which was as impressive as she’d hoped. She had also finally met up with Klaus’s contact in Mandalay, though there seemed little point. If the Emporium were finished, it would no longer need any contacts in Myanmar, whether dubious or not. But the man was pleasant, seemed honest enough and she kept his contact details.
You never know
, she thought.

The night before, Ramon had taken her to Mandalay Hill at sunset and to one of the famous puppet shows. And now, she was leaving on the river-boat for Bagan tomorrow, to fulfil the terms of her contract for the Emporium and to see the famous temples on the plain of Bagan before she flew back to Yangon and the international airport from there. And so … This would be her last evening with Ramon.

She had been invited to have dinner with Ramon, Maya and Cho Suu Kyi, but before this, Ramon picked her up in the car and drove her to Amarapura, once the capital of Myanmar, but now almost part of Mandalay’s urban sprawl.

‘Look.’ He stopped the car.

In front of them a procession of ponies was approaching, decorated with red and gold garlands, wild flowers wound in their manes. On top of every pony sat a young boy in a crown and silk robes, holding flowers and strings of golden bells. An adult attendant walked alongside each one, holding a parasol over each boy’s head. ‘What’s happening?’ But even as she asked, Eva knew what this was. She had seen versions in the temples of Mandalay and Yangon. It was
shin pyu
, the Buddhist equivalent of a first communion. After this ceremony the boys would live for a time as
phongyis
with shaven heads and saffron robes, begging for alms and studying the Buddhist scriptures.

‘Shall we?’ Ramon was getting out of the car and Eva followed suit.

Behind the ponies came a lorry crowded with people. In the centre of the open truck a young girl was dancing. Ramon held Eva’s arm. ‘This is a
Nat Pwe
,’ he murmured, his voice soft in her ear. ‘A Burmese dance-drama to celebrate the occasion of the
shin pyu
.’

Eva watched, intrigued. The girl was about ten years old and wore a
longyi
and an embroidered blouse of shimmering red and gold. And she moved fast as a flame; leaping, arching, flexing, twirling, her palms stretched back towards her wrists, her tiny feet in red satin slippers flicking up the hem of her
longyi
. Her ebony hair swung up and out and around like a curtain of silk and the red and gold fabric moved with her, flashing in the early evening sun, a streak of arcing movement, a tongue of fire. The girl’s face glowed and her eyes
were dense, lost in the drama of the dance. Until at last she paused, placed her palms together, head bowed and came to rest. It was enthralling.

They watched the small procession until it disappeared up the road behind them. ‘Beautiful,’ murmured Eva. She was glad that she had seen it, but the road seemed so quiet and empty now that the procession had gone. And she wondered if she would feel like that when she finally left this country. It had touched her grandfather with its magic and now, sixty-five years later, it had done the same to Eva.

They got back into the car. ‘I am taking you to the famous U Bein Bridge,’ Ramon told her, glancing across at her with a smile. ‘The longest teak bridge in the world.’

Eva sat back, relaxed for once in his company. After all the drama of the last few days, it was good to be almost a real tourist for a change. Even though the shimmer of those rubies in the wooden tiger’s eyes was never far from her mind. And whatever else they had done – and she was yet to discover the full extent of it – she knew that she couldn’t forgive Jacqui and Leon for letting her come here, for putting her in such a potentially dangerous position and for allowing her to become involved.

‘Who was U Bein?’ she asked.

‘The mayor of the time,’ he said, accelerating smoothly. She knew they were close to the river now; in her heart she just felt it. ‘He had it built with teak planking left over when the Royal Palace was moved to Mandalay.’

Everything, Eva thought, seemed to come back to the
Royal Palace sooner or later. It may have been moved and taken over and destroyed. But it still lived on. A bit like her grandfather’s feelings for Maya, she couldn’t help thinking.

And suddenly, there it was before them, the bridge stretched high over the wide river, the tall teak upright stilts reflected and glimmering in the surface of the Irrawaddy. The planking was strung loosely between the teak posts like a xylophone. More people were beginning to arrive, but at the moment there were just a few stragglers weaving across the bridge, and a group of monks, their saffron robes billowing gently in the breeze. It was quite a spectacle.

Ramon parked the car. ‘Come,’ he said.

And once again, she got out of the car and followed him.

At the bridge, they began to walk along the planking. Eva’s steps were tentative at first; there were cracks in the wood and planks missing so you had to watch your footing. And the old wood had of course been repaired in places; with so many visitors, the work must be ongoing. It wasn’t very wide and there wasn’t much in the way of a handrail, the sides were mostly open. Eva stayed in the middle, trying to ignore the way the bridge undulated gently with the movement of people walking over it. It was a long way down to the River Irrawaddy.

‘What do you think?’ Ramon offered her his arm and she took it gratefully. He was dressed in a black
longyi
and shirt tonight, and he cut quite a dashing figure, his body moving with the gentle rhythm of the bridge, balanced and surefooted.

‘It’s very special.’ They paused and looked down into the rippling Irrawaddy, at the sampans helmed by men in conical bamboo hats, at the huge expanse of river and sky beyond. The clouds had built and the sun was sinking lower in the sky. Tomorrow, she would be on this river, Eva thought. Sailing towards Bagan.

‘Have you heard from Klaus?’ Eva asked Ramon. She had hoped that the matter of Maya’s chinthes would have been resolved by now. Ramon had already told her that he’d had another meeting with Klaus in the back street café and that more information had changed hands. It looked as though Khan Li and his accomplices would be incarcerated for a long time once charges were brought, but Klaus was waiting, still gathering his final evidence. And once Khan Li was brought to justice, Eva had the feeling it might be even harder to get back the little chinthe. The family would close ranks. It would disappear, perhaps never to be seen again.

‘Yes, I have heard from him.’

‘And?’

‘And he is having dinner with them tonight.’

Eva glanced across at him, at the inscrutable face she had become strangely accustomed to. They both knew what this meant. Ramon had given Klaus the replica chinthe. He would try to make the swap tonight. Eva shivered. The last supper, she thought. And it would be the same for her. Tomorrow, she’d be gone.

‘You are cold?’ He put a protective arm around her.

‘No.’ It was a warm evening with just a slight breeze.
But Eva was happy for him to leave his arm where it was. She wouldn’t be enjoying the proximity of him for much longer.

There had been no further intimacy between them, no kisses, nothing to make her think that she meant anything more to him than a friend. And perhaps that was as it should be, because tomorrow she would be gone. And yet … With each day that passed, she seemed to grow closer to him.

They walked on in silence as the sun dipped lower and the trees on the little river islands became skeletal silhouettes. The sun was hazy now, half-hidden behind the clouds, sending a warm and gauzy glow on to the teak bridge and the water. Eva had experienced the sunset from the Shwedagon Pagoda in Yangon, from the road to Maymyo and, most spectacularly, two nights ago from the top of Mandalay Hill. But this, Ramon had promised her, would be the best. Saving the best for last, she thought.

‘Will he tell us how he got on?’ Eva asked. It would be wonderful to have some good news before she left, something she could tell her grandfather.

‘I am sure he will,’ said Ramon. ‘If all goes well, there will be no further need for secrecy.’

Eva nodded. ‘Good.’ She was fortunate, she realised, that since her abortive attempt to lay a trap for Khan Li and since the ransacking of her hotel room, she had been left alone. Whatever happened now, it was up to Klaus. He had many more contacts, information and manpower at his disposal. But she liked to think that she had at least played a part.

She turned to Ramon. ‘Who do you think found the first ruby in Mogok?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘They say it was an eagle.’

‘An eagle?’

He smiled, warm and lazy. ‘Long before the Buddha walked the earth, the north of Burma was inhabited only by wild animals and birds of prey,’ he said.

‘Yes?’ And Eva moved in a little closer, their heads together as they walked along the rickety planking. How did he know she loved these sorts of stories?

‘One day a huge, old eagle flew over the valley. On the hillside he saw a big piece of fresh red meat, bright and shining in the sun. He tried to swoop down to pick it up, but the meat was hard and he could not dig his talons into it. At last he understood: it was not meat at all, but a sacred stone, made of the fire and blood of the earth itself. The stone was the first ruby on earth and the valley was Mogok.’

‘Is that true?’ she asked him.

He shrugged. ‘We do not question such stories,’ he told her. ‘We simply listen and we interpret.’

Another lesson to learn, thought Eva. The British had first colonised Burma, imagining that they could teach them so much, that they could bring progress in education, medicine, transport and material wealth. But as they imposed their will, their changes, their ways and their Imperial Rule on to these people … Had they ever stopped to think about what they could learn from the Burmese nation? Had they valued Burmese ways and Burmese culture – and not just for material
gain? She thought that her grandfather had, she hoped that he had. He had, after all, fallen in love.

And what had she learnt? Eva thought of what Ramon had told her about Burmese culture and artefacts, the bitterness on his face as he had railed against those who had plundered Burmese wealth in the past and present. And she made a decision. She would not be responsible for taking any more Burmese artefacts away from the country, no matter how reliable the provenance. It was too easy to say that there would always be other antique dealers who would do the same. She was only responsible for own actions. She would go and see the temples, but, contract or no contract, she would not be buying anything for the Bristol Antiques Emporium in Bagan.

They stopped again, three quarters of the way across the bridge. The Irrawaddy had darkened now, the sky was suffused with red and indigo, the sun a ball of liquid fire sending a red torchlight streaming on to the water below. Despite the other people still on the bridge, there was a tranquillity about the setting that made Eva want to just stand there and absorb. She wanted to be able to remember this moment, this location, this exact and pure feeling, when she was far away. Ramon had been right. This was the best place to experience the Myanmar sunset. On the old teak bridge on the Irrawaddy river with this man by her side.

Ramon stroked Eva’s hair from her face. ‘This is an extraordinary place,’ he whispered. ‘Somewhere you might bring a lover.’

They were so close. Their arms and hips were touching, their faces only inches apart.

‘You can bring them to the bridge to look down into the river,’ he said.

Eva looked down. In places the water seemed deep and she couldn’t see the bottom. In other parts, it was shallow and brackish with the little marshy islands that seemed to be used for duck farming. She watched the ducks waddling in a long line to form a group almost under the bridge.

‘Or you can take them out in a boat,’ he murmured, his voice hypnotic. ‘It is the best view of the bridge, from the river.’

And she could see that this would be so. The U Bein was stark, rough and uneven. And yet the wooden bridge in its simplicity had blended into the natural landscape and become part of it, as it had indeed once been.

‘And what about you?’ Eva asked, stealing a glance across at him. All this talk about lovers, what exactly was he trying to tell her?

‘Me?’

‘What will you do?’ When all this is over, she meant. When she had gone home.

He looked past her into the depths of the Irrawaddy. ‘I will work at turning things around for my business,’ he said. ‘And I will continue pursuing my dream.’

His dream. The orange globe dipped towards the water, slowly sank into the horizon, washing the sky and the River Irrawaddy with its golden red flare.